Beyond Duty

by Stanalei Fletcher

  No, that wasn’t right. Something else happened after the horseback ride. The events, though somewhat disjointed, came rushing back to her in flashes. Riley. Fiona. The USB drive. She’d been struck on the head during the exchange. After that, she couldn’t remember anything.

  She willed her eyes open and looked at her surroundings. The room was dark and blurry. All she saw were shades of brown and gray. After blinking several times, her vision cleared. The blurriness was gone, but the room was still dark, and she didn’t recognize it.

  “Where am I?” Her words felt thick and tasted like defeat.

  “Shh. We have to keep our voices down.”

  “Fiona? Is that you?”

  “Shh,” Fiona said again. “Yes. You have to stay quiet.”

  “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Chip twisted to look at her friend.

  “I’m not hurt.” Fiona scooted closer and whispered. “I’m angry at what they did to you.”

  “Do you know where we are?” If Fiona had an idea of the location, Chip stood a better chance at coming up with a plan to get them out.

  “They’ve blindfolded me every time I’ve been moved. I know we’re still in New Mexico. We didn’t travel far from that place where you tried to save me. I’ve figured out we’re in a cabin somewhere.”

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” There’d be hell to pay if the kidnappers had hurt her friend. And if there was any chance of escape, Fiona needed to be able to run for her life.

  “No. But I’m hungry and tired and scared for Lorraine and Andrew.” Fiona’s tone was fierce.

  Chip had worried about the psychological damage, which could be worse than any physical injury. But her friend was strong and mentally tough. She’d find a way to move forward. If they got out of this alive.

  Rolling from her back to her side, Chip tried to push up, and realized the reason she couldn’t use her hands was because they were tied behind her back. She was barefooted, too, which would complicate an escape. In addition, the little soldiers resumed their vigorous march and her stomach roiled in protest. She dropped her head back to the floor. If she threw up, she’d feel better, but she didn’t want to give in to the sick feeling. Besides, she had to be strong for Fiona and figure a way out of this place. The sooner, the better.

  As she took more deep breaths, the wooziness started to ease. Chip let the pounding subside before trying to move again. “Can you scoot closer?” She looked over at Fiona. “Help me sit up?”

  Fiona leaned close and pressed her shoulder against Chip’s as she leveraged herself into a sitting position. Pain pounded along her temple worse than when she first awoke. “Whoa. Maybe that wasn’t such a great idea.”

  “Are you okay?” Fiona peered at Chip, concern etched over her pretty face.

  “I’ll be fine.” The last thing Chip wanted was to worry her friend. They both needed to keep a positive outlook to make it out of this ugly situation alive. “Just hurts a little, it’ll ease off soon. We need to see if there’s a way out of here.” She studied the dim dungeon-like room.

  There were no windows. Faint illumination came through a slit of light from under a crookedly hung door and angled across the floor before disappearing into the gloom. The rest of the ten-by-twelve-foot room looked empty.

  Chip glanced back at the door. It was probably locked. Even though she and Fiona were bound, she wouldn’t expect the kidnappers to leave them in an unlocked room.

  That door appeared to be the only way in or out. She needed to test it. She wondered how many doors they would have to go through to escape, and what unknown dangers lurked between them and freedom?

  With another breath, she struggled to her knees, then to her feet. As she stood, the room swam before her eyes and bile rose in her throat. Okay, so maybe standing wasn’t an option, yet.

  “You don’t look steady.” Fiona stood. “Here, lean against me.”

  Chip rested her head on her friend’s shoulder as they lowered to a sitting position. “Thanks.”

  Kneeling again, Chip closed her eyes and inhaled evenly through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Take cleansing breaths, her martial arts instructor would tell her. Deep, steady breathing to clear the mind as well as the body. “How long was I unconscious?”

  “I’m not sure.” Fiona’s voice quivered as she answered. “I haven’t been able to keep track of time. You were out cold until now. I was afraid they’d killed you.”

  “You always said my head’s too thick.” Chip tried making a joke to ease Fiona’s worry.

  Fiona groaned. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I know.” Chip opened her eyes. “I’m sorry. And you can stop worrying about Lorraine. Andrew found a way to get her rescued.”

  “She’s safe?”

  Chip nodded carefully so her head wouldn’t start pounding again.

  “And Andrew’s okay, too?”

  “He’s worried, of course, but Dad’s with him and they’ve enlisted help to get you home safely.”

  “Help? Like that man who was with you?”

  “Riley O’Neal.” Chip held back a groan as she remembered how he tried to keep her from getting too close when handing off the USB drive. That exchange didn’t go as planned.

  “I saw his face when they hit you. He looked ready to kill.”

  “He probably wanted to kill me for getting kidnapped.”

  “It’s not like either of you had a choice. I tried to warn you, but with my mouth taped shut…” Tears formed in Fiona’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

  Chip gave her friend a hard stare. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, Fiona. So stop talking like that.”

  Fiona sniffed and nodded her head. “I know.”

  “What can you tell me about who took you and Lorraine?” Chip redirected the conversation to help Fiona away from the guilt she was feeling.

  It worked. Fiona’s demeanor changed like a switch had flipped. “Dean Weston.” She practically spit out his name. “Lorraine’s boyfriend. She said he was stopping by for a visit. Right after she let him in, he pulled a gun and forced us from my room.”

  Chip swallowed. She and Riley had wondered about Weston and his involvement in the kidnapping. What didn’t make sense was why Pomeroy’s aide would do such a heinous act? What could he hope to gain by stopping the sale of those drones? “Did he say anything about why he was doing this? Is Senator Pomeroy involved?”

  “Pomeroy?” Fiona frowned. “No. I don’t think so. Why would you think he’s got anything to do with this?”

  “Lorraine was rescued on his ranch.”

  Fiona stared. “Really?” Then she shook her head. “I don’t think Pomeroy knows what Dean is doing. The weasel was alone until this afternoon. Then those other men showed up. They’ve had their faces covered whenever they come in, but they all speak Spanish. That can’t be good. Dean kept saying it had to be done and if I cooperated, no one would get hurt.” Fiona let out a small sob. “Now you’re here and you’re hurt, too.”

  “Things didn’t work as Weston planned. I suspect reinforcements were called in after Lorraine was rescued.” Chip took another breath to steady the pounding in her temples. If the pain would stop, she could think more clearly. She fisted her hands and tested the rope binding her wrists, then splayed her fingers to work the circulation back in.

  Out of reflex, she felt for the wedding ring and noticed it missing. “My ring’s gone.” She couldn’t stop the words or the sudden sick feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with her headache. Someone had taken the ring off her finger. She guessed they might be using it to send a message about her. But why? Had she and Riley blown their cover?

  “What ring?”

  Too late, Chip realized Fiona would notice that statement. Chip rarely wore jewelry. “My wedding ring.” No point in trying to spin some sort of story.

  “You’re married?” A huge smile appeared on Fiona’s face, chasing away some of the worry lines. “
When did this happen, and why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”

  “Keep your voice down.” Chip glanced at the door. “It happened two days ago. It was all part of our cover to get into New Mexico without alerting your kidnappers.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “That didn’t work so well either. I’m pretty sure our cover is blown now.”

  “You’re married to that hunk I saw? What was his name? Riley?”

  “O’Neal.” Chip squinted in the gloom to see Fiona better. “Don’t start getting any ideas. It’s not real.” She thought about the marriage license. That looked real enough. But no—it was for their cover story. Right?

  “You didn’t see his face when they hurt you. That kind of reaction is hard to fake.”

  “He’s an agent. He’s trained to conform to the situation. You should have seen him when he was undercover at the youth house last year.”

  “You’ve worked with him before?” Her expression changed to one of understanding. “Was he the guy you told me about? The one you locked horns with?”

  “The same.”

  Fiona’s smile grew wider. “I remember you had a hard time shaking that encounter, and that’s not like you.”

  “Stop it, Fiona. You’re making more out of this than there is.”

  Fiona giggled. It was a delightful bell of a sound, out of place in the dire circumstances. “I don’t think so. You should see your face. You like him, and you don’t know how to admit it. If my hands weren’t tied, I’d give you the biggest hug!”

  “I’ll admit he’s good at his job. I admire that, okay?” Time to change the subject before Fiona turned this ugly situation into a pajama party. Chip glanced around the room. “We need to focus on getting out of here.” Now to find a way out of this predicament and get some answers. The earpiece! If she was still in range, then maybe Riley was listening and she could get a message to him. “Can you tell if there’s an earpiece inside my ear?”

  “I didn’t know you were hard of hearing.”

  “I’m not. It’s a communication device to stay in contact.”

  Fiona leaned closer to look in Chip’s ear. “It’s pretty dark in here, but I don’t see anything. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

  Disappointment caught in her chest. “Yes.” If it had been there, and if she’d been in range, she should have heard Riley or one of the other troops talking. And they would have heard her end of that conversation with Fiona, too. Still, she’d trade a little embarrassment for getting her friend home safely. “Did you notice if someone removed it?”

  “I didn’t see anyone take it. But right after they knocked you out, they blindfolded me again.” She leaned her forehead against Chip’s. “I’m so sorry. I’m not much help.”

  “It’s okay.” Chip wanted Fiona to stop blaming herself. “You’ve been through a lot, and you’re handling it really well.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  Chip pulled back and glanced at the door. “I’m going to check that door.”

  “How? Your hands are tied. And we can’t go running through the desert on bare feet.”

  “I’ll start with testing the lock, then figure something out from there.”

  “What if they hear you?” Fiona shuddered. “They’ll hurt you again.”

  Chip gave her friend what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “That’s a chance I’ll take. Stay here and sit quietly.”

  The cleansing breaths had worked. The fog had cleared and the pain was subsiding. Chip stood, and this time the room didn’t spin, nor did the little soldiers start marching through her brain. She took her first step. Glad that her legs supported her, she padded softly over to the door. When she reached it, she whispered to Fiona. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always.” Chip gingerly leaned her ear against the old wood. Still nothing. Then she looked at the handle in the dim light shining through the crack at the bottom of the door. It appeared to be an old-fashioned knob, round and rusted. Turning her back to the door, she felt for the knob, grateful it didn’t rattle as she placed a hand firmly around it. Millimeter by millimeter, she turned it, and the latch gave with a click. Chip held her breath and waited a beat for one of the goons to burst through the door. When nothing happened, she carefully pressed on the wood, but the door didn’t open. Locked from the outside. No surprise there.

  She released the knob and placed her ear to the door, again. Muffled voices came from the other side. The voices were masculine and sounded contentious, like they were arguing about something.

  Sliding to the floor, she looked through the gap under the door. The light from the other room wasn’t as bright as she’d first thought. There were irregular, shadowy flickers from a television. She saw table legs a few feet away. The rest of the area was dark and it was hard to tell what room of the house she was looking at. A smoky, sweet smell wafted through the small crack. At first, she couldn’t identify it, then she realized she was smelling cannabis.

  Excitement replaced the trepidation she’d felt a moment ago. Whoever was on the other side of that door was busy getting stoned. Dope slowed both reflexes and senses. The arguing was probably over someone taking more than his share. This was an opportunity she couldn’t ignore. If their captors were distracted out of their minds, maybe she and Fiona could sneak out.

  Chip stood and grabbed the doorknob again. This time, with some force. As she put her weight against the door, she heard a cell phone ring. The ringing stopped. She placed her ear against the door to listen. A muffled voice answered. Then whoever was speaking must have turned in her direction because she heard the words in a man’s voice with a thick Spanish accent. “I will get them ready.” The voice was that of the man who had doubled crossed her and Riley at the exchange meeting.

  Chip hurried as quietly as she could to the middle of the room. “Someone’s coming. Get back on the floor.”

  Fiona sat with a very unladylike grunt and Chip scooted next her just as the door opened. “Cooperate with whatever they say,” she whispered. “I want to get a feel for who these guys are and what’s happening before we try anything.”

  “This is your show,” Fiona mumbled back. “I’ll follow your lead because I’m out of my league.”

  A man approached, his face uncovered now. He was lean, with black hair and a scar running down the right side of his face.

  “Ah, Mrs. Burnsworth.” The heavily accented voice was thick with sarcasm. “I see your friend is awake.” He stepped into the room and came toward them. In the dim light, his black eyes glittered, reminding Chip of a panther stalking its prey. “Let’s see who we have here.” He crouched in front of Chip and grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her head one way, then another. She didn’t take her eyes off him.

  “You are angry, Señora.” He dropped his hand. “As you should be. This is not a pleasant situation. But soon, it will be over.”

  “We gave you the codes.” Chip tried to remain calm, but her tone was more hostile than she intended. “Why not keep your end of the deal? Why bring yourself more trouble?”

  “Such fight.” He gave her a yellowed tooth grin. “I like that in a woman, but not so much in a captive. It can be wearisome.” He struck Chip across her face with the back of his hand. “A lesson first, before you make the mistake of underestimating me.”

  Chip heard Fiona gasp as her head snapped to the side, making the headache return with a vengeance. A warm trickle on her cheek told her that his ring had cut her face. She clamped down on the string of profanity she wanted to unleash. Instead, she lowered her gaze and dropped her chin.

  “Better.” The man hauled her to her feet and she feigned unsteadiness. Surprisingly, he held her for a moment to make sure she didn’t collapse. Then he grabbed Fiona’s arm and brought her up to stand next to Chip. “Move.” He ushered both of them toward the doorway.

  Chip held back, allowing Fiona to go first. She wondered about tripping the man as he walked behind her. Then a s
hadow appeared in the doorway. It belonged to a big man with a scraggly mustache, holding a shotgun. It was pointed right at Fiona, and all thought of trying to tangle with her captors went out of Chip’s head.

  She and Fiona stepped into the other room and Chip saw they were in a run-down cabin. There was a kitchen and living area to their left. To the right, a main door looked like it led outside. Chip made note of the windows too, counting them as potential escape routes.

  The man behind Chip prodded her toward the table where a pair of chairs were set up in front of a video camera. Her stomach dropped. This couldn’t be good.

  He pushed Chip’s shoulder, forcing her to sit in the chair. The other man laid the shotgun on the table and picked up a roll of duct tape. Tearing off a strip, he pasted it over her mouth. Then he did the same to Fiona. Obviously, they weren’t supposed to talk or give any encouragement to the people who would see the video.

  Chip wondered where Weston was, and why he wasn’t running the show. As she glanced around, she spotted two other men leaning against the walls watching the situation play out. They both had semi-automatic pistols pushed into their belts—unconcerned that two bound and barefoot women would present a threat.

  None of these men had bothered to cover their faces. That meant one thing. She and Fiona wouldn’t live to see this through. Chip shivered as death’s frozen finger skated over her skin. Once these men had what they wanted, Fiona and Chip were liabilities…threats who could identify them.

  Once again, she discreetly tested the rope binding her wrists. It was still tight, nearly cutting off circulation. She tried to assess how long it had been since she’d been captured. Had Riley been able to track the kidnappers? Did he have a rescue underway? One thing she knew for sure, he wouldn’t be sitting on his hands.

  As the man finished arranging the camera, Chip realized it didn’t matter how close Riley might be. He couldn’t possibly get here in time. If Fiona was ever going to see her husband again, it was up to Chip to make sure they got out of this alive.